


Comfort and Joy

by TelWoman



Series: Stories written as Christmas gifts [1]
Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:10:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelWoman/pseuds/TelWoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps Santa Claus and his little helpers really do exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A week before Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> For Eroicafen everywhere. Merry Christmas.

“… and as soon as Jonesy has taken the security system offline, we’ll enter by way of the skylight above the conservatory. Barnaby will come in with me; Beck, you’ll wait for us outside. If anything goes wrong, you’ll swing our emergency exit strategy into action.” 

Eroica looked around the conference table at his men. “Any questions? No? Good. We’ll meet here tomorrow evening at nine o’clock, ready to go. In the meantime – Bonham, can you oversee getting all the gear ready? Thank you, gentlemen. Meeting closed.” 

Eroica favoured everyone with one of his warm, bright smiles, and then his eyes settled on his newest recruit. “Barnaby, love – come down to my study. Come and talk to me.”

Beck, Jones and Bonham watched Barnaby follow the Earl out of the work room, trotting in his wake like an eager puppy.

Barnaby was the Eroica gang’s first new recruit for several years. Nobody was very clear about where Eroica had met him; nor was it entirely clear just what Barnaby’s thieving credentials were. About two months before, the Earl had brought him home to the Castle and introduced him to the team as their new colleague, and from the first day he arrived, it was clear that Barnaby had captured the Earl’s attention. 

Lord Gloria spent hours alone with him, talking to him in his study, or walking with him in the Castle gardens. He included Barnaby in strategy meetings, and had given him a place in their plans for the next robbery, to the chagrin of several other members of the team.

“What do you make of that?” Jones looked genuinely puzzled. “His lordship’s hardly looked at anyone for years, not since he fell for the Major. But I swear he spends half his time with Barnaby. You don’t suppose he’s gone off the Major?”

Bonham shook his head. “Impossible. Nothin’ would shift his affections off the Major. Not after all this time.”

“Well, I’m not so sure,” Beck commented. “I mean, it’s all one-sided, isn’t it? It’s not as if the Major’s fallen in love with _him_ , or even given him any encouragement. As far as I can see, all the Major’s ever done is abuse him. Young Barnaby, on the other hand – well, he worships the ground Lord Gloria walks on. You can hardly blame his lordship for lapping up the attention. And Barnaby is very pretty. Until he started chasing Uncle NATO, his lordship always liked pretty boys.”

The three lapsed into silence, pondering. 

“Look, I don’t think there’s anythin’ in it,” Bonham said at last, sounding more convinced than he felt. “Young Barnaby’s the new boy. Of course ‘is lordship’s goin’ to spend time with him, makin’ sure he understands ‘ow things work round ‘ere. And the lad’s got one hell of a crush on ‘is lordship, you can see that, so I wouldn’t blame Lord Gloria for feelin’ flattered.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Beck growled. “It wouldn’t surprise me if bloody Barnaby flattered his way into Lord Gloria’s bed. His lordship’s not exactly getting what he needs from the Major, is he?”

“What ‘is lordship does is ‘is own business,” Bonham reminded them. “’E’s grown up. ‘E can do what ‘e likes.”

Jones said, “D’you think Barnaby’s kosher? I mean, we know who’s who in the world of art theft, but none of us had ever heard of him before he arrived here two months ago. He seems to have all the right skills, but— I dunno, it just seems like something doesn’t quite fit.”

“What, are you sayin’ he might be a plant? You ran the background checks yourself, Jonesy. You said you didn’t find anythin’.”

“That’s just it, Bonham mate. I didn’t find _anything_. It was as if our boy Barnaby hadn’t existed until two months ago.”

All three sighed gloomily.

 

 

Dorian opened the window that overlooked the gardens, letting the frosty breeze blow into his study. 

“There, love, is that better? You do like cool temperatures, I must say! Jamesie must love you, he’s always trying to get me to agree to turn off the central heating.”

Barnaby smiled shyly. James certainly did _not_ love him. James had noticed within days of Barnaby’s arrival that there seemed to be a special affection blossoming between the Earl and his newest recruit, and he’d become intensely jealous. 

The newest recruit was also aware that some of the other men were less than happy about how quickly he’d become an essential part of the Eroica enterprise, and how far he’d been taken into the Earl’s confidence. Barnaby knew that James was not alone in feeling jealous and resentful.

“My lord, what are you planning to do after we’ve completed tomorrow night’s job? Are you going to take a break?” 

Dorian smiled. Just looking at Barnaby made him feel warm and peaceful. “I plan to enjoy Christmas here at the Castle, with the people I love most in the world.”

“Not tempted to spend Christmas somewhere glamorous, m’lord? Somewhere exciting?”

“No, Barnaby love. I’ve spent the last few Christmases away from home, and I don’t want to do it again. I want to be with people I love – with people who love me. My last few Christmases haven’t been like that.” 

For the last five years, Dorian had spent Christmas trying to trap the Major into sharing some seasonal joy with him. He’d turned up at the Major’s apartment in Bonn, at Schloss Eberbach, at a small hotel the Major had tried to hide out in; he’d followed the Major on a mission he’d taken in order to escape Dorian’s overtures; he’d even tried having himself delivered to the Major’s office on Christmas Eve in a large cardboard box with a big red bow on it.

All to no avail. The Major – grumpy, iron-hearted man that he was! – had thwarted his plans every time. Dorian had come home, disappointed and hurt, to his men who were also disappointed and hurt that he’d abandoned them at Christmas time, in pursuit of what most of them thought was a lost cause. 

Barnaby knew this, of course, so it didn’t matter that the Earl didn’t elaborate further. 

“It makes me sad when people are unhappy at Christmas time,” Barnaby said. “People should be with the ones they love best at Christmas!”

“Home is where I’ll be, Barnaby love. No more chasing mirages. I’ve already told Bonham to organise the best Christmas party he can imagine. We’re going to celebrate having everyone at home this year.” 

Barnaby smiled warmly. “Then let’s make this the best Christmas you’ve had for years, my lord.” 

“Oh, darling,” Dorian said ruefully, “that wouldn’t be very hard at all.”

The sadness Barnaby could see in Lord Gloria’s eyes cut him to the quick. Nobody as beautiful as Lord Gloria should ever feel sad or lonely, he thought. A man like Lord Gloria should be loved and appreciated – and he, Barnaby, knew just how to make sure that happened.


	2. Three days before Christmas

Bonham sat down at his computer and opened his email. He scanned through quickly, dashed off answers to two or three that needed only short replies, deleted a few newsletters. He forwarded a joke to Agent A in Germany. 

Within minutes, an instant message window popped up on his screen. 

_Hi Bonham. Thanks for the joke. Do you get time off at Christmas? A._

He messaged back, _Yes and no. I’m in charge of Christmas dinner this year. Do you get time off?_

A replied: _The Major is making half of us work through Christmas Day. I get the day off but G and Z have to work. I suppose the Major is right, you never know when World War III is going to break out. The Major is getting worked up already trying to guess what Eroica will try this year._

Bonham sighed, and wrote: _Eroica not trying anything this year – staying home for Christmas._

A wrote back: _Why? Isn’t he well? Or is he planning fresh tactics for New Year?_

Bonham hesitated for a few moments, then wrote: _No – seems to have a new interest._ He stared at what he had written for a full minute, feeling deeply disloyal, then clicked “send”.

There was a pause before A’s reply arrived. Bonham imagined Agent A staring in puzzled disbelief at the screen before composing his answer – which read, _What do you mean?_

_Just what I said,_ Bonham typed. _New interest. He’s called Barnaby._

He clicked “send” and waited. Ten seconds later, the phone rang.

“Hello, Bonham speaking.”

“Who’s Barnaby?” Agent A’s voice sounded shrill.

“A new bloke that’s joined the team.”

“Do you mean Eroica’s interested in him _romantically?_ ”

Bonham sighed. “Yeah, that’s the way it looks. They’ve been inseparable ever since Barnaby turned up. I keep tellin’ the other blokes I don’t think there’s anythin’ in it – but I’m lyin’. ‘Is lordship looks at Barnaby the way a cat looks at a canary.”

“And what’s Barnaby’s attitude to Eroica?”

“Somewhere between adoration and worship. ‘E’s gaggin’ for it.”

There was silence at the other end of the line while Agent A processed this information. Then, “I can’t believe this, after the way Eroica’s chased the Major for years. What could possibly change his mind in such a hurry?”

“Big brown eyes and a pretty face.” Bonham sounded disgusted. “I dunno, Barnaby’s not a bad lad – but ‘e’s got no substance. Lord Gloria needs someone to challenge ‘im a bit. Someone who’ll stand up to his wild ideas. But I can see ‘ow the prospect of someone sayin’ ‘Yes’ to ‘im has its appeal.”

“Do you think I should tell the Major?”

“About Barnaby?”

“No, about Eroica not trying anything this Christmas.”

Bonham considered. “Nah. I wouldn’t. Just let sleepin’ dogs lie.”

“All right, then,” said A. “I find this hard to believe. Listen, I’ve got to go. Talk to you soon.”

“Yeah, ‘bye.”

They rang off. Bonham stared into space. For years, the Earl’s pursuit of Major von dem Eberbach had been one of the main factors that shaped life at the Castle. If his lordship truly had given up on the Major, and instead had fixed his affections on Barnaby, life was going to look very different. Bonham was not sure it would be an improvement.


	3. Christmas Eve

By the afternoon of 24th December, Major von dem Eberbach had worked himself into a rage. For the last five years, every Christmas had been dominated by Eroica’s outrageous attempts at seduction. He’d had to put up with his personal space being invaded, his private life interrupted, his work interfered with—! Whatever was going to happen this year, he was ready. That damned pansy wouldn’t get away with it – whatever he was planning.

Just before five o’clock, Agent A met with the Major to discuss the tasks assigned to those Alphabets working through Christmas. When the Major was satisfied all was in order, he said, “One more thing, Agent A – and this need not be documented. I want you to brief Agent G and Agent Z. If anything connected with Eroica happens while they’re on duty, they are to report it to me _immediately,_ do you understand?”

“Er— yes, sir. I’ll tell them, sir. But—”

“But what?”

“Sir, it’s Christmas Eve, and nothing’s happened. Don’t you think you can relax this year, sir?”

“Relax? As long as that curly-haired bugger walks the face of the earth, I can’t afford to relax. He’ll be up to something, and I’m not going to let my guard down!” 

Something in the expression on Agent A’s face made him stop in mid-rant.

“Agent A, is there something you haven’t told me?”

A’s heart sank. 

“Agent A? Report.”

There was no escape. A sighed. “Sir, I have reason to believe that Eroica will not be contacting you this Christmas.”

The Major’s eyes narrowed. “And how do you know this?”

“Sir, I… er…”

“God damn it, man! Speak properly, will you? What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Sir, I—”

“Have you been fraternising with Bonham again?”

Agent A blushed. “Sorry, sir. Yes, sir. Not fraternising, sir – exchanging intelligence.”

“Exchanging intelligence? Is that what you call it? Bloody gossiping, more like it. So what’s Bonham been telling you?”

Unnerved, confused, Agent A tried to steer a safe course between truth and discretion. 

“Sir, he told me that Eroica’s decided not to bother you this Christmas. In view of the way your previous Christmas meetings have ended. That is to say, the way you’d prefer to be left alone. Or rather, the way Eroica feels it’s fruitless to keep on trying. What I mean is, ever since this Barnaby’s arrived—”

_Oh shit. I didn’t mean to mention Barnaby._

“Barnaby? Who’s Barnaby?” the Major demanded.

Agent A sighed, and wondered how he was going to persuade Gladys to come to Alaska with him.

“Sir, Bonham said there’s a new man joined Eroica’s team. Barnaby, sir. Eroica is … interested in him romantically.”

_There it is. I’ve let the cat out of the bag. Alaska, here I come._

The Major stared at him, frowning. “Romantically?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Agent A. That will be all.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Agent A closed the door on the way out, wondering what the terrible blankness in the Major’s eyes meant.


	4. Christmas Day

Christmas Day dawned, bright and frosty. 

Dorian woke, alone in his big luxurious bed. He’d had years of self-enforced celibacy, and he was tired of waking up alone. Perhaps, if he was _very_ good, Santa would bring him someone to love this Christmas? What about Barnaby? Such a sweet boy, such pretty brown eyes. Did he dare to invite Barnaby to share his bed? 

He showered, and dressed carefully. Casual and sexy, that was the right image for a Christmas Day spent at home with his men. Relaxed and touchable.

Bonham had bribed James to allow him to spend lavishly on the celebrations. Egg nog, champagne, and brandy punch flowed. Breakfast and lunch offered culinary delights rarely seen at Castle Gloria. The team gathered around a beautifully decorated tree in the afternoon to exchange gifts. 

The day was everything Dorian could have wanted; the Major had been all but banished from his mind. By mid-afternoon, Dorian was half-tipsy, relaxed and sleepy, and he had Barnaby snuggling up against him on the big sofa in the drawing room. 

Nobody was listening for the doorbell, so it rang for at least ten minutes before anyone noticed. Peters went down to see who could be calling. He opened the door.

“About fucking time!” Major von dem Eberbach, his face like a thundercloud, stormed into the hallway. “Where’s Eroica?”

Taken by surprise, Peters forgot to behave like a butler. “Everyone’s in the Yellow Drawing Room,” he said.

The Major strode off, following the sounds of celebration wafting through the ground floor of the Castle.

The noise of merriment grew louder as he got closer. He rounded a corner, and stopped, framed in the doorway. Before him was a scene reminiscent of a Roman orgy: men lounging on couches, couples draped across each other, wine flowing, and in the centre: Eroica, with his beautiful golden hair and his elegant figure – and his arm around a slender brown-haired lad with big brown eyes.

The Major strode into the room to confront the Earl, who was sitting open-mouthed with shock.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the Major thundered. “I suppose that’s bloody Barnaby, is it?”

The Earl recovered himself. “Major, we weren’t expecting you.”

“It certainly doesn’t look as if you were!” he bellowed. “You!” He pointed at Barnaby as if thunderbolts would fly from his fingers. “Get out of it! Now!” 

Barnaby, eyes wide, slunk out from under the Earl’s arm and faded into the crowd of stunned and confused thieves. 

“You! I want to talk to you!” The Major seized Eroica by the arm and dragged him out into the hallway.

A babble of surprised speculation broke out as soon as the two were out of the room. Bonham looked around for Barnaby. It wasn’t really the lad’s fault, and the Major had probably terrified him. 

Bonham headed down the passage that led to the side door. A chilly breeze blew in through the open doorway, and he saw Barnaby out on the terrace, not shivering at all in the cold in spite of wearing only a thin shirt. A gust of wind blew Barnaby’s hair around his face. Startled, Bonham noticed that the lad had pointed ears.

Barnaby turned around when he heard Bonham approaching, his eyes mild and warm, his smile gentle. “I’m all right, Bonham; don’t worry about me. But I have to go now. My job’s finished.”

“Job?”

“Yes.” Barnaby’s smile widened. “Saint Nicholas sent me to make sure that this Christmas, Lord Gloria and Major von dem Eberbach get what they both want most in the world.”

Bonham turned his head to follow Barnaby’s gaze. Inside the house, the Major had Lord Gloria pressed up against the wall beside the staircase, and was kissing him with all the fire and passion he usually channelled into anger.

“So you see, my work’s done now. I have to return to the Realm of Frost. Please say goodbye to Lord Gloria for me, and tell everyone I’ve gone.”

Bonham glanced around again, and this time he saw Lord Gloria and the Major, hand in hand, climbing the stairs toward his lordship’s bedroom. He turned back to Barnaby. “You were sent to do this?” 

“Yes. Wish everyone a merry Christmas,” Barnaby said – and then, suddenly, he wasn’t there any more.

 

Bonham stayed out on the terrace until his hands began to tingle with the chill. Pragmatic and practical, he wasn’t prone to believing in things that defied reason – but try as he might, he couldn’t come up with a logical explanation about where Barnaby had gone. 

“Hey, Bonham, come inside! It’s freezing out there!” Beck called from the doorway. “Where’s Barnaby?” 

“Gone.”

“Gone where?” Jones asked.

“Just gone. ‘E wishes everyone a merry Christmas.” Bonham came inside and closed the door. “Is there any o’ that brandy punch left? I think I need a drink.”

“Why would Barnaby just leave? Did the Major frighten him off?”

“No. He’d finished the job he was sent to do.”

Jones looked alarmed. “Job? You mean there _was_ something I missed when I did the background check?”

Bonham grinned. “Remember you said it was as if Barnaby ‘adn’t existed before he came ‘ere? I think you were right. I think ‘e came into existence just to give ‘is lordship and the Major the best Christmas present either of them's ever had, and now ‘is job’s over. Mission complete.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Bonham?” 

“Dunno, Jonesy. I stopped believing in Father Christmas when I was about seven years old. Seems I was wrong. Let’s ‘ave that drink. I think I need it.”


End file.
